


You Don't Know What You Want

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Vampire High
Genre: Angst, Community: femslashficlets, Friendship, Hinted Karl/Essie, Minor Character Bashing, Mirrors, Mixed feelings, Multi, One-Sided Relationship, Pining, Romance, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4765469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genuine interest is a far cry from consolation, yet maybe not as far as Merrill believes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Know What You Want

**Author's Note:**

> Written for femslashficlets for prompt #023 - mirror.

There’s a lot she'd like to say to her.

Merrill is nothing if not shy, nothing if not infuriating to even herself. On the subject of her One it’s different, this topic alone unglues her tongue from the roof of her mouth and bids her to speak, though no one seems surprised given her tendency to bite her tongue when it comes to nearly everything else.

The face she sees in the mirror when she berates herself for being meek toward Drew is her own, but it is not a face she likes, doesn’t belong to a person she particularly envies or looks up to.

It’s a wonder that Essie even comes to her to do something (Merrill doesn't know what) at all. It’s a wonder that Essie doesn't dismiss her or leave her be as the others resort to.

Merrill’s off in her own little world, preoccupied with her One. Preoccupied by her flaws. She is anything but self-centered yet she cannot stop criticizing herself, what with her too straight hair and her freakish eyes and that all of herself cares too much and that she has so much to make up for with her sordid past. She might as well cut herself open and bleed all over Drew, that might render a response.

Merrill had always dreamed of finding her one, yet sometimes she wonders whether it would have been better if she hadn’t.

The others are all wrapped up in their own little worlds too. Their lives seem fun yet trivial at the same time, everything means something to them but there is essentially nothing that means anything to them. They are all so alike in so many ways, unconcerned about the Experiment enough to complain at every waking moment.

Essie is like the rest of them, even worse in some respects. She’s obsessed with fashion and looking her best and her perfectly coiffed hair and before it was enough to make Merrill’s stomach rebel.

There’s also Essie being so preoccupied all the time but always being there. Whenever Merrill’s in a bad mood, whenever she goes back to her room (one she also shares with Essie) to sulk about Drew and about the slow progress of her writing (though mostly the first one), Essie always comes to find her sooner rather than later. It can’t be because Merrill always retreats to the same place. There has to be something important and pressing to make Essie desire to physically get up and go console the only other vampire of her same gender.

Genuine interest is a far cry from consolation, Merrill always tells the pale, thin, bug-eyed face staring back at her from the mirror. Essie acts different around her though, Merrill isn’t dense enough to miss it. It could be that she has far too much time on her hands, but it could also be that something is there that Merrill hasn’t paid attention to in her obsession with Drew.

There’s a lot she’d like to say to Essie. _Why do you care so much? Does it make you feel better to put someone up, to make them feel like they_ _’re worth something? Do you need that much of a confidence boost that you feel you have to get it from me rather than from Karl? Are you merely stringing me along, Essie? Have I been made blind by my own pursuits, or have I always been this way?_

But the only Merrill that she knows is the shy, meek one, the one who can never get up the courage to say what she means. Essie’s the pushy one, the one that knows what she wants and goes for it, even if all she seems to want is more shoes and red lipstick of a deeper shade. So Merrill waits, and not for that long. She assumes that if Essie wants something then she’ll say it.

It isn’t how it works. Karl invites Essie to bowling night because of their mutual love for the game. She outwardly refuses him (even despite his coaxing) in a way that makes Merrill (almost) cringe. As if this weren’t strange enough, Merrill goes to their room to find her elegantly perched on the edge of her coffin, admiring herself in a small compact mirror, as if waiting for her.

Merrill, as usual, doesn’t say anything, merely walks over to the oblong shaped mirror in the corner and brushes her hair, realizing she can at least take care of that part of herself. Like always, she’s more than a little displeased at the face that stares back at her. She knows that Essie is walking up behind her (the perks of being a vampire) but she ignores that too, pretending to work out a nonexistent tangle in her long hair. She hasn’t had tangles in her hair since she was a human and she can only dream longingly of their infuriating past existence now. At least then there was unpredictability in her life.

She doesn’t know what comes over her, but Merrill slams her brush down on the vanity and whirls around to face Essie, who only seconds prior accompanied her in the mirror’s reflection. “What? What do you want from me? Why did you refuse to go bowling with Karl?” She hadn’t meant to ask this last one, as if she cares about Essie’s social life.

“So many questions, Merrill. I can only answer one at a time.”

The words that come out of her then seem more from a book than from her own lips. “Why do you taunt me then?”

Essie looks at her full on, one manicured hand reaching out to brush back Merrill’s long hair, which has fallen in front of her eyes. “What does anyone want?” The confusion must shine through on Merrill’s face, given Essie’s generous (is it lustful?) smile. “Oh, Merrill.”

Merrill’s hungry mouth goes for her, as if Essie is her prey and Merrill the one in control.

**FIN**


End file.
